One thing I’m known for, especially among family and friends, are my sweeping pronouncements and swear-offs. For example, as many of you know, I swore off pro football a few years ago, citing the incidence of head injuries and CTE.
I’ve also sworn off certain restaurants, often because they are too loud. (I am hard of hearing — eh? — and there’s nothing quite like restaurant cacophony to ruin a nice dinner with friends.)
My family and friends also know that my pronouncements often don’t stick. For example, I’m back to watching the Chiefs’ games and even some non-Chiefs games. And tonight, I’m looking forward to watching part of the Oregon-Oklahoma bowl game, with the return of former Sooners’ coach Bob Stoops, who has returned as acting head coach.
In addition, I’ve capitulated on some of those off-limits restaurants, going back and cupping an ear to try to hear over the din.
Having failed to live up to most of my pronouncements, however, I am not giving up on blanket declarations. In fact, today I’ve got a new one!
I AM THROUGH WITH CVS. I WILL NEVER STEP FOOT IN ANOTHER ONE.
I’m sure many of you feel the same way, even if you haven’t gone so far as to swear off the world’s largest pharmaceutical chain.
This company is now so big that it also owns my Medicare insurance company, Aetna. I can’t get out from under that, but at least I can try to stay out of their stores.
As CVS and Walgreeens have smothered virtually all competitors, the choice of products has dwindled and prices have escalated. A few months ago, I went into a CVS looking for Ban stick deodorant. Well-known brand, right? CVS should have it, right? No, they don’t. They’re pushing Gillette and a few other brands.
I presume that as they’ve grown, CVS and Walgreens have gotten like Walmart, pressuring manufacturers they choose to do business with to give them the products at the prices they’re willing to pay. The manufacturers that don’t knuckle under are off the shelves.
The end of the line for me came this week. First, I went to the CVS at 51st and Main and bought a large roll of tan packing tape and two pairs of socks, the latter being an impulse buy.
When I got home, Patty said she wanted clear tape, not tan. No problem, I said, I’ll exchange it. Then I pulled the thin, cardboard packing off the socks, clipped the plastic “T” strands and found that the soles of the socks were about as thick as a mattress pad. To get them on, I’ll probably have to buy a pair of orthopaedic shoes with an 8-E width instead of my usual 6-E. (Yes, my feet are a bit unusual. I had to give up swimming because when I would go to the pool, the foot prints that I left beside the pool were scaring the little kids.)
I couldn’t return the socks, of course, with the “T” strands snipped and the exterior binding torn away, but it was some solace knowing I’d be able to exchange the tape.
Next day, I was out south and took the tape, with receipt, to the CVS at 75th and Wornall. When I got to the tape section, it was practically bare. No packing tape at all. Now, I understand a lot of tape is sold before Christmas, but, hey, it’s tape, it should be stacked to the ceiling in the stockrooms.
Then, I had to make a run to Overland Park to get a new compost bin, so I stopped at the CVS at 75th and Metcalf. They had one roll of clear tape left — one roll! — and I made the exchange.
Today was the capper. We are pointing to get together with a couple of good friends at our house on New Year’s Eve, and they want us to get Covid tests before coming over. So, on the way home from the airport, where our son Charlie was catching a flight back to Chicago, Patty attempted to call the CVS on Barry Road, just off I-29, to see if they had any of those rapid tests that sell for about $25 for a pack of two.
Naturally, Patty couldn’t get through to a live person. She just kept pushing the “make-a-selection” buttons, trying to get to the pharmacy. As we neared the Barry Road exit, she pointed at the exit sign, suggesting wordlessly that I pull off and head to the CVS.
Nothing doing. I knew it would be a waste of time. Then, inspiration struck. “Dial this number,” I told her. She punched in the number of my independent pharmacy, located in the Price Chopper store at 85th and Wornall. The pharmacist picked up on the first or second ring.
“Do you have any of those rapid Covid tests?” Patty asked. “Okay,” she said after a few seconds. “Can you hold two for us; we’ll be by to get them.”
Patty disconnected and gave me a look that combined admiration and amazement. Inflated with my own brilliance, I just smiled.
…Yes, I think it just might be possible to live without CVS. You can get your pharmaceuticals at places other than CVS and Walgreens, and you can get anything else you need through Jeff Bezos’ operation.
Well, that’s a story for another day. In the meantime…
